


As The Storm Raged

by Bethalous



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dialogue Light, Fluff, M/M, Storm - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 21:06:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2124702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethalous/pseuds/Bethalous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the window of his office, Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade watched the rain and waited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As The Storm Raged

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short piece due to some of the heavier weather here lately. It actually hailed the other day, and the pieces of ice were bigger than mint imperials.

The rain had been falling steadily for hours now and still didn’t appear close to stopping. The normally crowded streets had been deserted for dryer locations, so the puddles rose, untouched, flooding the paths and creating miniature waterfalls off of the kerbs. Anyone unfortunate enough to be caught outside, hurried to find shelter from the heavy downpour. The city seemed to stop; waiting for either an end to the flood, or accepting its drowned fate.

From the window of his office, Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade watched the rain and waited. Scotland Yard had fallen silent as everyone focused on their work to prevent the melancholy of the weather from entering their souls but the silver-haired man couldn’t concentrate. Paper work – though he had plenty to complete – was dull, tedious and he had always found rain distracting. He loved to watch it fall, race across windows, splash to the ground. It was invigorating and he hated that adulthood had forced him to curb his desire to dance in it, jump in every puddle, stand still and let each drop caress his face.

He sighed, and turned away from the window, determined to diminish at least some of the work that demanded his attention. As he worked, the rain fell on. Then the wind picked up. Trees shook, litter flew down the roads and the rain hit harder than before, making all surfaces cry. Thunder rumbled overhead while lightning flashed closer and closer. The storm raged around the city, enclosing it in darkness. Lights flickered, power struggling to keep going as electricity danced through the air. Establishments of all varieties began to close, forcing people out onto the ravaged to make their way home before the weather worsened.

Lestrade made it home just as the power went out across the city. He watched from the window of his apartment as all lights flickered and died. He quickly found the matches and began lighting the candles that he kept for just such emergencies. He had learnt growing up that you never knew when you could lose power and light helped to bring both physical and mental warmth. Soon, the living room was lit by shimmering flames and Lestrade sat on the floor by the large window that covered the back wall and looked out at his city. His back was resting on the adjacent wall and several candles sat in clusters around him, their light bathing him and bringing welcomed comfort. He sighed, at peace, despite the volatile anger that was swarming outside. Lightning forked directly over London now, dissuading the power from returning. Lestrade didn’t really mind though. He enjoyed a good storm, much as he enjoyed a good argument, every now and then. It had been an age since this type of fury burned the city and he was content to let sky war wage.

A knock at his door, distracted him from the light show and his hazy thoughts. He rose slowly, carefully avoided candles as he made his way to the dark hall. Opening the door revealed a sight he hadn’t witnessed in years.

“Goddammit Sherlock, you’re soaking!”

Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective and self-pronounced genius, stood in his doorway, water rolling off him in rivers. His hair was plastered down and he looked a mess. He didn’t say anything so Lestrade just pulled him into the apartment. He dragged him through to the bathroom and left him there to collect a couple of towels. When he returned to the bathroom, Sherlock was still standing in the middle of the room in his wet clothes but he had begun to shiver.

“Okay. Take those clothes off – all of them – and dry yourself off with these. I’ll go find you some dry stuff to wear.”

He left the slightly taller man then, returning briefly to deliver sweatpants, t-shirt and hoodie. Lestrade settled himself back in his spot from earlier, continuing to watch while he waited for his companion. It didn’t take long for Sherlock to join him, and the younger man sat between Lestrade’s legs, resting against the firm chest with the DI’s arms wrapped comfortably around his waist.

“I wanted to watch the storm with you.”

They didn’t speak as more bursts of lightning shot across the black sky, the roar of thunder momentarily hushing the screaming wind. Together they watched the battle in the heavens, uncaring of the combatants or the outcome, just pleased to be safe and sound in each other’s arms. When the fight finally fizzled out and the power returned, they blew out the candles and checked that all of the lights were off before retiring to bed, once more wrapped up in and around each other.

The storm had ended and the city still stood. They were still together so no words were needed. Silence now reigned as peace took over.  


End file.
